


make your body move like mine

by venomedveins



Series: of magic & monsters extra content [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Banter, Humor, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12755295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: A deleted scene from of monsters & magic taking place as the Alptra prepare to battle the Roma vampires.





	make your body move like mine

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks forever to habibinasir for her everlasting support and dedication to this fic.

"Again!" Crixus barks, spinning the hilt of is sword in his hand.

The young soldier advances quickly, reckless in his movements. He swings high and Crixus uses the butt of his sword to slam into the boy's ribs. He buckles, rolling to the side, groaning loudly as he collapses face first into the sand. Crixus shakes his head in frustrations, watching as the man struggles to get to his feet, gasping and clutching at his ribs.

Rolling his neck, Crixus glances over just in time to watch Nasir slam the length of his spear into his training partner, efficiently flipping him over onto his back. The large man gasps for breath, sand sticking to his burly chest and neck, a trickle of blood oozing from his mouth where he bit his cheek.

"Ha!" Nasir hisses triumphantly, pulling himself up from his crouch. "You will not survive unless you learn to block."

"A skill you have mastered, highness." The man wheezes, staring up at the rough stone ceiling. His smile is faint and bloody when Nasir casts his spear down.

"It was not always so." Crixus wraps an arm around Nasir in friendly banter, offering him a large cup of water, "Wild little dog needed some training."

"Keep speaking like that," Nasir growls up at him, flashing his teeth, "and I will show you how well I've been trained."

Crixus' laugh billows out of him, deep within his chest and loud in a room filled with clashes of metal and bodies. He can feel eyes on them, shocked soldiers and guards confused by the easy way he's allowed to reach up and ruffle Nasir's hair. There should be a line drawn, he's sure, where royalty and nobility separate, but Crixus cannot be bothered with it. He has carried Nasir in his arms, has wrestled him and trained him until Nasir can kill a man with only his hands. He has held Malik against his chest, has watched Nasir weave flowers into Yasmina's curls, and sat in the quiet morning with him, horseback and exhausted as they made their way to Galena. There is no barrier between them, only the love of family.

“Did Melitta give you clearance to-“ Crixus drops his voice and his eyes, making a slow sweep over Nasir’s body.

“I am fine.” Nasir rolls his eyes, ghosting his fingers over the small curve of his stomach. It is not noticeable yet, hidden behind carefully made armor.

Crixus nods his head in understanding, wise enough not to question Nasir. He has seen the power the lies inside of him, witnessed firsthand the magic that shimmers just under the surface. The vessel may be small and soft looking, but Nasir’s eyes glimmer when provoked.

"Make way for the king! Move!"

The guards at the door shouts boom over the training field, a flash of light shattering into the room as the doors are thrown open. Agron enters flanked by Duro and Spartacus, head bent to listen to whatever it is that they're saying. He's dressed for training in thin cloth and straps of leather, eyes scanning the room before landing on Nasir, scowling when he sees Crixus' arm around him.

"It is a crime punishable by death to touch the royal consort." Agron says in way of greeting, pressing his hand between them and gently but firmly pushing Nasir to the side and out from under Crixus' arm. “You tempt fate.”

“Do you deliver the blow yourself? You have not bested me yet, _highness_ ,” Crixus sneers, the top of his lip curling back. Nearby, a soldier gasps loudly, staring at the small group, bewildered at the easytone that the captain of the guard can take.

"Give him a sword!" Duro growls, shoulders rolled back. He’s quick to defend Agron and even quicker to use him as a weapon. "If you are so sure of victory, let us have it. Agron will make you regret those words."

"Watch yourself pup." Crixus flashes his teeth, pointing to a long scar down Duro’s arm. “Does that need a twin.”

"Save your rage for the vampires." Nasir interrupts, loops his arm around Agron's waist, leaning his head back and puckering his lips. Agron gives in instantly, wraps his arm around Nasir’s shoulder and pulls him closer, kissing him. They are surrounded on all sides by soldiers training, eyes sweeping across the floor to watch Agron’s chest expand against Nasir’s back, palm slide over Nasir’s neck, holding firm as he deepens the kiss.

Spartacus clears his throat loudly when Nasir’s body arches back, leaning heavily into his husband. There are too many people, too many foreigners that do not understand, watch with careful reservation and judgement. When Nasir pulls away, he’s flushed and Agron’s eyes are glowing, hands possessive on Nasir’s waist.

“Are you all here to train or has something happened?” Nasir asks, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He indulgently presses back against Agron, grinding just a little, having to stop when Agron’s fingers turn sharp on his hips.

“A fucking break between meetings.” Duro groans, leaning down into the sand and pulling a practice sword from the sand. “You feel like having a go?”

“I wouldn’t.” Crixus cuts in, grinning at the prince. “He’s knocked a dozen of my men flat on their ass this morning.”

"Fuck the gods!" Agron laughs loudly, tilting Nasir's chin up so he can peck his lips again.

"One certainly has a broken nose," Crixus growls fondly, watching Nasir preening at the attention. He certainly deserves it, having been working harder than anyone it would seem to carve skill into his already there knowledge. The twin blades at his hips are evidence of that, the handles curled gold snakes.

"Perhaps your soldiers are not as well trained as you thought," Duro begins, smirking at Crixus.

THe expression is wiped from his face though as with a short shout, Nasir drops into a crouch, swinging his leg sharply. It connects solidly with the back of Duro's calves, efficiently knowing his balance and sending the prince crashing to the sand. Nasir easily returns to his previous position, looping Agron's arm back around his shoulders, jostling with the king's mighty laughter.

"Fuck! I wasn't ready!" Duro whines from his place on his back, rubbing at his head.

"An Alptra soldier is always ready for battle," Crixus mocks, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding approvingly at Nasir.

"You have grown very fierce, a warrior I am most proud of," Agron murmurs fondly into Nasir's ear, keeping his voice low so they are not overheard.

"You have not truly see me fight yet though," Nasir turns around, resting his palms on Agron's chest, nails dragging along the leather straps there. "Train with me?"

Agron's eyes drop to Nasir's waist. "I do not think-"

"He is afraid!" Crixus boasts beside the couple, winking at Nasir. "King Agron trembles before his consort."

"Shut up!" Duro snarls, having regained his footing. "You speak out your ass!"

"No, no," Nasir goads, drawing back from Agron, coming to stand beside Crixus, settling under his arm instead. "Let us not taunt the king. He has been in meetings all week. He must be weary."

"Give me sword." Agron snarls, teeth clenched tight and snarling. When Spartacus hands over, Agron steps forward, fisting the front of Nasir's tunic and pulling him back against him. "If you are an Alptra soldier now, let us make a wager as they do."

"A wager? And what will you bet?" Nasir grins, trying hard not to arch into Agron's body, feeling the heat of Agron's half hard cock against his thigh.

"What do you want?" Agron raises a brow, slowly releasing his hold on Nasir's clothes to brush his fingertips down Nasir's throat, resting his palm where Nasir's collarbones touch.

"How about," Nasir begins, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip, "if I win, you have to promise to let me fight in this war and not try and hid me away."

"And?" Agron prompts, grin dirty and knowing. He holds perfectly still as Nasir leans in, voice dropping so no one else can hear.

"I want," Nasir's blush spreads over his cheeks, "to tie you down. And see how long you can last when I ride you."

"Deal." Agron proclaims loudly, nodding his head and stepping back.

"Wait, what do you wager?" Nasir asks, automatically following Agron forward.

"If I win," Agron spins his sword in his hand, "you must promise to do everything I say and command for an entire day."

"How is that any different than any other day? You're the king." Duro scoffs, having stood, he brushes the sand off his shoulders. When he isn't answered straight away, he glances over at his brother, eyes going wide.

Agron's expression has melted into something entirely lewd, ignoring Duro completely as he stares at Nasir carefully, dragging his gaze from Nasir's sand covered bare feet to his flushed face. The consort seems to understand the double meaning behind the words, shifting purposefully in a roll of his hips as he draws his daggers from their sheaths.

"Deal." Nasir ducks his head, shifting the blades to one hand to shake on it. Agron wraps his fingers around Nasir's, using the grip to yank his husband forward and sealing their bargain with a swift and hard kiss, teeth biting. He looks entirely too confident as he pulls back, stepping towards the center of the room. Those who are training quickly back away, attention being drawn to the two royals squaring off.

"He has at least seventy pounds of muscle on you," Crixus murmurs into Nasir's ear, "Agron's attack is brute force, hard blows, you must use your own strengths. You are faster, lower to the ground. Attack quick and dodge back, tire him out. He's going to try and grab you."

"How do you know?" Nasir mutters, shaking out his ankles and stretching.

"I watched Doctore teach him that style. You must use your own assets to beat his." Crixus turns so his back is to Agron, grinning down at Nasir, "I did not say this to you, but on the battlefield, combined you both would be an unstoppable team."

"Stop whispering to my consort, you fuck!" Agron calls, having moved onto his side of the circle. He flashes his eyes at Crixus, a snarl curling over mouth.

"Majesty," Crixus snaps, bowing quickly and retreating to the side. He nods encouragingly at Nasir though, tapping his fist to his shoulder.

"Remember," Spartacus warns, standing between them, making sure to catch both of their eyes, "no extreme force. We need you both intact for this war. First to pin the other down for a count of three or gives a death blow will automatically win the fight."

"Of course," Agron bows his head, spinning the hilt of his sword in his hand. "No need to ruin that pretty face."

"Nasir, no excessive magic." Spartacus turns sharply when a bolt of fire slides past him, harmlessly bouncing off the sharp metal of Agron's shoulder guard.

"Come on, my love," Nasir hisses, dropping into form, one arm raised by his face the other pointed out. "Let's begin."

Spartacus looks uneasily between the two of them before he raises his arm, quickly dropping it as a signal to start. For a baited breath, neither man moves, staring at one another, before suddenly Nasir dashes forward until Agron's taunting grin. He plants his feet, propelling himself forward into a quick jump. Agron seems to be expecting it though, free hand slipping from his sword to grab Nasir's thigh, easily lifting up and throwing Nasir off balance. He doesn't let go though, spinning them quickly and dropping Nasir soundly on his back in the sand.

Hissing, Nasir doesn't stay down, using his position to kick soundly into Agron's thigh, making the other man stagger and flipping up. Daggers in hand, they click soundly against Agron's broad sword, attack quick and sharp. Agron allows it, blocking in quick turns of his blade. It backs him half up across the sand, giving them more distance from the walls. The soldiers around them are watching fascination, one having never truly been privy to Nasir using his preferred weapon in battle and two having never seen royals train this way. Agron and Nasir make it seem almost like a brutal dance, metal clicking and sand clouding up around their bare feet.

Changing tactic, Nasir twists his wrist up to try and cut at Agron's fingers to loosen his hold on the sword. Agron catches it just in time, swinging his sword wide and releasing one hand to snatch forward and grip Nasir's throat. It is not enough to bruise, but a heavy weight that makes Nasir falter, frozen for just half a moment - but it is long enough for Agron to yank him forward, kissing him hard. Nasir snarls into the kiss, teeth biting and throwing his arm up to jab his elbow into Agron's ribs, wrenching away. He retreats across the sand in a quick backflip, hissing loudly. A shimmer of gold scales slips across his cheek and down onto his throat, Nasir flashing his teeth.

"Come on," Agron laps the blood off his bottom lip, eyes wild, "Let's go little snake."

This time Agron charges and Nasir just has a moment to gasp before Agron's sword is meeting his blades again. The force of the blow makes Nasir's arms ache, having to move twice as fast to block the short turns of the blade. He can see the gleaming of Agron's eyes, up close to see the fury of his expression. There is something almost leering about it, and Nasir breaks out in a cold sweat, having to drop down into a crouch and roll to avoid Agron pinning him back against the wall. He swiftly jabs his heel into the back of Agron's leg, by some miracle making the king's grip fumble on his sword. Nasir's triumph is short lived as he tosses the sword to the side. Now Agron's hands are empty, but he comes quickly and with fury.

"You would hardly know that they're lovers," A soldier mutters to his neighbor as Agron manages to grip Nasir's wrist around the blow from the sai, tugging him forward. He's brute force, dragging Nasir's planted feet through the sand. When Nasir attempts to hit him with his other arm, Agron spins Nasir sharply, arms locking around him and pinning him down. Nasir attempts to wriggle free, shouting something sharp in Pythonissan as Agron's mouth suddenly leans in, pressing a sharp bite to the junction of where Nasir's neck meets his shoulder.

"To them," the soldier laughs with his neighbor, "this seems like foreplay."

Using Agron as the weight against his back, Nasir draws in a deep breath and propels his legs up, leaning back harshly, slamming his head into Agron's shoulder. It loosens his husband's hold enough for Nasir to flip free, panting hard and trying to regain his footing. Agron lets the lapse happen, instead turning to retrieve his sword. He shifts it from hand to hand, watching as Nasir contemplates his attack, dashing to the side instead of coming on straightforward. The pillar supporting the roof gives Nasir footing and he jumps against it, springing back and up. He makes a surprisingly high arch, flipping back over Agron and landing before him. The only indication of a blow is the thin line of blood slowly spreading over Agron's right cheek. Nasir's eyes go huge, almost fumbling out an apology, but the words get stuck as Agron surges forward.

The blow this time knocks one of Nasir's daggers from his hands, the blade skittering across the sand and disappearing under the stands. With one, Nasir has no chance of attack against the sword, but he still uses it to block Agron's broad sweep, jumping back. Agron follows him though, quickly dashing forward and laying a series of sharp cuts towards Nasir's right blade. Nasir somehow manages to keep hold of it, instead receiving a few long cuts to his tunic, the fabric sliced open. Agron only touches skin once, a sharp little jab over Nasir's heart that bleeds but isn't deadly.

"You're growing tired," Agron smirks, taunting in sharp Pythonissan, listening to the soldiers cheering around them.

"Me?" Nasir pants sharply, using his free hand to grab Agron's wrist to halt his sword against Nasir's blade, "I am just getting started."

Using his own move against him, Agron shoves their hands away from one another, dropping down and swinging his leg out. It knocks Nasir off his feet, arching sharply as he topples back to the sand. The wind leaves him as his fingers fumble his dagger away. Agron tosses his sword to the side, dashing forward and swinging his leg over Nasir's hips, hand on his chest. When Nasir tries to sit up, Agron pushes him back down. Shoving him into the sand, Agron is about to begin to count when he feels Nasir shifting against him, arching and gasping. They are too far away from the others watching them for them to be able to hear, but Agron's mind suddenly goes entirely blank, feeling the slow drag of Nasir's half hard cock against his thigh. The tiny moan Nasir lets slip out causes Agron's breath to catch, eyes going wild. It only lasts a moment, Nasir's wanton expression - eyes closed and mouth open - slips instantly into a smirk, hands suddenly surging forward.

He shoves as hard as he can into Agron's side, making him lose balance. It is barely an inch but enough for Nasir to skid on his hands and heels out from under Agron, half crawling and half running across the sand to snatch up a discarded sword. Agron looks utterly betrayed for half a moment, still kneeling on the sands, before he snatches up his sword and advances towards his husband.

"Do you plan to use that tactic on the battlefield?" Agron grits through clenched teeth, slamming his sword into Nasir's, forcing him to take half a step back.

"It seems to work," Nasir laughs breathlessly, shoving the hilt of his sword into Agron's shoulder, trying to dislodge his grasp. He does not falter though, reaching with his free hand to fist his hand in Nasir's hair, Agron drags him forward and up on his toes. He breathes the words directly against Nasir's face, eyes shimmering neon.

"Only on a solider who knows what you look like sinking onto his cock, too full to even be able to breathe," Agron tugs hard on Nasir's hair, grinning when his husband's eyelashes flutter, gasping hard.

Nasir does not answer with words, but instead with pressing the tip of his sword just under the straps of Agron's armor on his left side, the blade fitting nicely above his hipbone. If this were true battle, Nasir would only need to slam the blade home and he would easily kill his opponent. Agron notices the point, using his grip on Nasir's hair to drag him into a heated kiss. It is a distraction and a necessary one as Agron purposefully drops his own sword, arm wrapping around Nasir's waist. It would almost be a caress if not for Agron's next move. He lifts sharply upwards, swinging Nasir off his feet and then turning him, shoving him roughly against the nearby pillar. It is a move that is intimately familiar as Agron pins Nasir against the stone, swords clattering away as Nasir's leg automatically lifts as if he means to wrap his thighs around Agron.

It gives him what he needs as Agron's hand slides from Nasir's hair to grip his leg, lifting and gripping as he turns them once more. He slams Nasir down onto the sand, both of them gasping as Agron straddles him. Nasir does not let it stop him, scrambling for something in the sand, coming up empty handed and having to grasp one of it in his hand, throwing the dirt towards Agron's face. It is expected though, Agron turning his head at just the right moment, swearing loudly as sand clashes over the side of his face instead. It is desperate as Nasir tries to shove and hit at Agron, but his weight combined with Agron's thighs gripping down on Nasir's legs makes it impossible. It is a death blow as Agron finally pins his hands above his head with one fist, the other pressing a sharp blade to Nasir's throat. It is the one Nasir had hidden in a small pocket on his thigh.

"I win," Agron murmurs, smirking triumphantly down at Nasir, letting his weight settle more firmly. It presses Agron's cock down against Nasir's, trapping them both as Nasir's eyes roll, pressing his lips tightly together to keep from moaning.

"King Agron wins!" Spartacus calls out moments later to the sharp and loud applause of the crowd. The soldier's eye the royal couple in awe and shock, watching closely as the two stay down on the sand, panting and staring at one another. They had not expected such a showing from the two, shocked at how fast Nasir can move and the force Agron puts behind his attacks. It feels charged.

Panting hard, Nasir collapses back into the sand, staring at Agron with weary and fond eyes. His whole body aches, bruised and covered in sand and grit. It was worth it though, even if Nasir is bitter about losing, it felt good to spar with someone who was not afraid of him due to his status. Agron easily tosses the blade away, grinning slowly down at his pouting husband. It dimples his cheeks - making him look almost giddy.

"You are a cheater." Nasir mumbles, pursing his lips.

"Says the man who moaned at me to get out of my hold," Agron teases, using his free hand to tap the tip of Nasir's nose, earning a sharp bite of Nasir's teeth in response.

He means to move, releasing Nasir's wrists and shuffling back, only to have Nasir sit up, wrapping his fingers around the leather straps over Agron's chest. Slowly, a flame slides from Nasir's neck, down over his arm and onto Agron's chest, warm and flickering along the sweat clinging there.

"Agron," Nasir's teasing mood gone, he is all slow blinking eyes and soft mouthed.

"Yes?" Agron brushes a strand of hair from Nasir's cheek, suddenly burning up. He lets his fingers linger along Nasir's chin, touching the corner of his mouth.

"Claim your prize," Nasir gasps, arching his hips up just slightly. It's ruined a moment later as Duro suddenly comes over, nearly slamming into Agron.

"I knew Crixus was full of shit!" Duro laughs, followed closely by the aforementioned man and Spartacus. "Excellent work Nasir, of course, but god damn brother. A triumph. I wish I could have it painted in moving pictures so I could watch it over and over."

Rolling his eyes, Nasir releases Agron's armor and waits until his husband stands to do so himself, straightening his tattered clothes and trying to catch his breath. Agron glowers nearby, too worked up to be able to smother it away. He wraps his arm around Nasir's shoulders, tugging his husband close, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"You did very well, highness." Crixus nods approvingly, patting Nasir's cheek. He ignores it when Agron flashes his teeth towards him.

"Excellent work, even under your-" Spartacus' eyes glance over Nasir's waist, grinning proudly, "your condition. You would make any Alptra soldier shudder in fear."

"You both are too kind." Nasir smiles just slightly, taking a deep breath, "but Agron still won."

"Agron has been training since he could walk," Crixus cuts in, reaching over to grasp Nasir's hand in his. He squeezes shortly, bowing to kiss Nasir's royal ring - a sign of great respect. "Nasir, we are all very proud to call you our king's consort."

Nasir is struck speechless by the honorable words, ducking his head in his own bow. Something warm and proud settles in his stomach, watching Spartacus' expression of awe and pride as he nods along with Crixus' words.

"Well, I must take my consort to our rooms." Agron glances at both Spartacus and Crixus, both men understanding their meaning, before he tugs Nasir forward.

"Wait! Aren't we going to share drink? Celebrate your victory?" Duro calls, pouting when Nasir laughs, both of the royals stopping short. Agron glances down at Nasir, grinning, before he turns back to his brother.

"Later, little brother." Agron leans in, kissing Nasir's mouth slowly. "I am a just king, afterall. Nasir should claim his prize, since he showed such skill, and then I will claim mine."

"Many times over." Nasir grins, using his grasp on Agron's wrist to tug them towards the door.


End file.
